


like catching flies

by searwrites (sears)



Series: redneck au [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Sexual Content, maybe with some plot, mudding, redneck au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sears/pseuds/searwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from tumblr:</p><p>eren/jean/armin | redneck au where armin moves away and jean is the one who takes it the hardest | warnings for sexual content, polyamory (does this need a warning? i hate "warning" for it), vague references to homophobia, terminal illness, and general discomfort in family settings | rated r/m | 4kish</p><p>this was the erejean redneck au i wanted to do but then i missed armin and erejearmin and had to change it, which kind of fits for the story as well. this may or may not be something i continue, similar to how i 'continued' dudebro au</p><p>---------------</p>
            </blockquote>





	like catching flies

“Ready to go muddin’, you fuckin' pansy boy?”

Jean nudges Eren in the arm, which turns into more like an aggressive herding towards his Chevy, already crusted over in dirt from the last time they did this. It beats sitting around in the heat and wishing Jean’s dad wasn’t home so they could steal his beer, maybe avoid the topic of Armin some more - and at least the Chevy has air conditioning.

“Fuck you, calling me pansy boy, get in there,” Eren mutters, shoving back. Jean’s got this ridiculous neon muscle tank he probably got at Walmart, the edges frayed and a little stained - if anyone looks like a pansy, it’s him.

They pile into the truck, Jean whooping and hollering like a goddamn animal, all while Eren braces himself, gripping the handle above the door to hold on. They roll down the windows, because they’re  _both_  fuckin animals, and then Jean skids off past the edge of his property, screaming over the roar of his battered engine.

Jean lives on just over two acres of land, or his parents do. He lives out in the shed, which they converted into a shitty guest house he pays pennies to rent from them. Behind the cut off of their land is all swampy marsh, which is the perfect place to go and get your truck all caked and dirty.

He drives like a maniac too, but that’s kind of the thrill of it. Eren just holds onto the handle above his head, his other arm gripping the seat behind Jean’s shoulders, and the rest is in the hands of Jean and his Chevy.

By the time they’re done, as usual, Eren has a mild case of whiplash, and Jean’s voice has gone all hoarse from screaming like a wild boar. They stumble back towards Jean’s shed, both their legs wobbly and weak, and then Jean shoves Eren right into the direction of the outdoor shower.

“You’re covered in dirt, man, wash your pig ass off.”

Eren stumbles into the cut out - what was once intended to be a pool in the backyard got covered in sod and now on top of it resides one of those plastic things you fill up with your hose, ironically enough. The shower is like a wooden bathroom stall almost, standing just a little out from the shed, with spare concrete slabs shoved into the dirt to make it less muddy from the off-spray.

Eren is only halfway through tugging off his shirt, and he uses it to cover his chest right after, because Jean slides in next to him.

“We’re not taking turns, idiot,” Jean says, when Eren shoots him a glare. “The water never stays hot for more than a second.”

“It’s a thousand fucking degrees outside,” Eren shrieks, still covering himself like an old ma’am from the fifties, debauched, “How can you want to shower in hot water?”

Jean slips his flimsy little top off, stepping out of his shorts and standing there in nothing but his ragged looking boxers, and this is where Eren continuously wonders why he puts up with this. Jean is all legs, his torso long and thin, his muscles only barely defined - and Eren doesn’t like doing this not knowing where Jean’s father is, or without even mentioning Armin.

“Some like it hot,” Jean says with a smirk, poking Eren in the stomach and then catching him off guard enough to whip his tshirt away so he isn’t covering himself anymore, “Like that stupid old movie you like.”

Jean steps beneath the spray - which is lukewarm, a happy medium - and tips his head down to let the water beat over his head, streams of it running through the caked dirt on his arms. His shoulders are a little red once the true color of them is revealed. Jean always burns like this, Eren just turns brown.

“C’mere.”

Jean tugs Eren until he’s stumbling into him, until Jean breathes and Eren feels the water-slick press of his skin against his stomach, the way it expands when he breathes, and Eren’s knees feel a hundred times weaker than they did when he jumped out of the Chevy. It’s been weeks since Jean touched him like this, or even really agreed to see him outside of public passing.

By a tiny stretch of time, Jean ends up with Eren pinned to the back wall of the shower, the wooden panels creaking beneath their combined weight. Eren gets lost when this shit happens, just backs away and begs, pleads, “What are you doing, man?” Jean’s way of telling him this time is by leaning down and licking the fat swell of Eren’s lower lip into his mouth, biting on the soft flesh.

“Showering with you,” Jean decides to answer, leaning in to lick the salty skin of Eren’s cheek, right by his ear.

The rest happens in a muted blur. Jean grabs Eren’s hair, pulls and tugs until his throat is exposed, until he’s held back against the fence-like wall and gasping, so hard in his shorts it makes him dizzy. Jean licks Eren’s neck, right through the gritty sweat, and presses his bony hips into Eren’s. The last time they did this was in the truck, in the bed of it, the day after Armin moved, with Jean coming in his pants after dry humping Eren’s thigh and whimpering into his mouth.

“Pansy boy,” Jean murmurs to him softly, a quiet little thing, like confessing a secret. He lets his grip on Eren’s hair go loose, knocks their foreheads together, and kisses the bite marks he left on Eren’s lips. Eren only pants into his mouth, choking on his breath when Jean stuffs his wet hand down Eren’s shorts, rubs him over the thin fabric of his damp boxers until he’s spilling in them, whimpering against Jean’s lips.

Jean laughs and pulls back, his hair all wet and stuck to his face, his side swept ridiculous half-hawk all ruffled like the feathers of an arrogant prick of a bird. He stands back and takes Eren in, grinning like the cat who caught the mouse, almost proud of the shuddering mess he’s made of him.

“You’re still caked,” Jean says, running a finger through a track of dirt on Eren’s bare shoulder, and since Eren apparently has lost the use of his limbs, he pulls him forward under the shower, wipes off his skin with his hand. Eren only chances kissing him once, when Jean isn’t really looking, and it only catches the corner of his mouth. Jean’s head jerks, like he wants to follow it, like he’s hungry for more, but then he thinks better of it, because his pop is walking outside now, shouting for him.

“Who in the hell told you you could take the Chevy out?” Jean’s dad grumbles, and then freezes mid step when he catches Jean holding onto Eren’s biceps, their faces still close enough to kiss. Eren’s still got a mess of spunk in his pants, and Jean’s teeth marks on his lips, and they couldn’t look more fucking guilty if they tried. But it doesn’t matter, because Jean shoves him away, and then pushes the damp hair out of his eyes to turn to his father.

“You said I could have it for the day,” Jean protests, his voice a little shaky.

“Yeah, not to go out in the fuckin' mud, boy,” his father leers, and Eren is more embarrassed for Jean than anything else, with the way he instantly cowers. He’s terrified of his father, and he’s not good at pretending he isn’t. “To go out in to town and find a job.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Jean says, half teenage petulant whine, as if this is a discussion they have often. It might be. Jean doesn’t like talking about his parents or family life much.

There’s a tense pause of silence before his dad walks away from them - one where the cicadas sound too loud, their cries ringing in Eren’s ears, and one where Eren thinks Jean’s dad is waiting for Jean to fuck up again, as if it only ever takes a couple seconds to notice it. When he walks away, Jean exhales, and then turns to Eren with a shaky smile.

“Let’s go get Armin.”

Eren agrees, and after accepting a clean tshirt and some shorts from Jean, they make their way back to the truck, the heat calming a little as a breeze kicks in, dragonflies making little plane-shaped shadows at their feet as they buzz around overhead. When they get back in the truck Jean hands a towel that’s half used to Eren to dry his hair off, which Eren accepts and does only with mild effort - the wet hair makes it seem cooler when the breeze hits.

  
“So, you been lookin' for jobs in town now?” Eren asks, because it’s the first he’s heard of it. The only one who lives in town is Armin, and they both hate how far away he is, it’s one of their favorite things to bitch about. If Jean went too, he’d have to move, and Eren would be stuck here alone.

“Not really,” Jean mumbles, flicking his headlights on and off again, a nervous twitch. “I got the shed all souped-up anyway. Stuck some insulation in there, got a window AC unit. We’ll grab Armin and take him back with us, I wanna show him.”

Eren nods, hopeful for the sole fact that Jean is so determined to drag Armin into this. A month and a half ago, he refused to speak to him, not long after he moved and decided he was going back to school. Now Jean’s started referring to him in vague passing, calling him ‘the emo one’, only recently beginning to show how much he really has missed the sound of his name.

“How’s your mom?”

It’s an adventurous question, but Eren wonders if they aren’t at that kind of point in their relationship where they do this, whatever their relationship is - where he's allowed to admit that he worries about the things that make Jean worry.

“Still in the hospital care,” Jean replies tightly, white knuckling the wheel of the truck, “Dad says it’s draining him dry. But we got word today her treatment might be over soon.”

Eren wants to say they should go visit her - especially with Armin, as she always seemed to love him the most. Always called him the pretty one, and because Armin never got offended like the other two did when she would toss effeminate words on their boyish heads, she always assumed it meant he liked her more.

The nervous jitter of Jean’s knee only tells Eren this is a turning point, the perpetuator for his seemingly playful need for affection. That and he’s apparently been dying to show them both the shed.

“Healthcare,” Eren scoffs, vague on purpose, because he isn’t sure what else to say.

Eren blows up Armin’s phone for half the ride to town, and then when Armin picks up it sounds like he’s out of breath and happy about it. It sends an odd spike of jealousy to the pit of his gut, but it all sort of dissipates when he tells Armin they’re coming to get him,  _both_  of them, and he sounds so elated he might cry.

By the time Armin's hopping into the truck, climbing over Eren’s lap to settle in between them, all pink in the cheeks from having ran down his expensively long, paved driveway, Eren can only feel a gentle simmer of hope - things might go back to how they were, or they could.

“Shit, it’s been, like, a  _year_ ,” Armin says, his voice all high pitched and breathy, as he tosses his skinny arms around Jean’s neck, pulling him in.

“A year my ass, it’s been two months,” Jean grunts, his voice shortened by the grip Armin has on his neck, though he’s squeezing Armin’s waist back, just as hard.

Armin's thin t-shirt rides up his back, exposing the two, soft little dimples right above the hem of his jeans, and Eren thinks the world could end, right here, right now, and he wouldn’t care, as long as the three of them were piled into this truck together throughout.

“Hey,” Armin says softly, then turning to hug Eren. Eren laughs a little, because Armin is so delicate with his affection - it has to be equal, it has to be fair, even though it’s never going to be equal or fair between the three of them, but it works regardless. Still, he’s seen Eren only last week. Jean hasn’t even mentioned wanting to see him until today, but Eren won’t tell him that.

On the ride back, Armin talks non-stop, like he’s trying to makeup for months of no contact in the hour or two it takes for them to drive back to Jean’s. Jean tells Armin about fixing up the shed, making it like a little apartment, only without an en suite and a kitchen. Instead of being condescending about it, like Jean has been ranting and raving for weeks that he is by nature, Armin looks ecstatic for him, excited they have somewhere to hang out together without adult supervision.

Armin’s converse look brand new, and they get a little ruined when he missteps into the muddy patch near the shower outside, which Jean grabs him by the bicep to yank him away from, keep him from stepping into it further. Once they kick their shoes off and enter the shed, Jean flips on the AC, the rickety grumble of it like lighting the wick to start their night, and Armin is already halfway up into his bunk, giggling like a little girl as he flops down onto the pillows.

He hasn't been in here much since Jean fixed it up. The AC unit is smaller than he expected, but it's insulated around the open window by this clear looking glue. He's got rope lights hung up, outlining where the wall meets the ceiling, and then he's got this bulletin board - a cork one, with pictures of the three of them all tacked into it, messy and disorganized, which oddly fits the subject matter. Still, it makes his chest feel a little tight - that Jean had these pictures still, that he went out and bought something to put them on, sitting in his pseudo-apartment and making house.

Eren knows it’s coming, so he doesn’t really look or wait for it. He busies himself with Jean’s desk, at the paint masks and rusted tools all stuck in styrofoam cups, leftover from when he was fixing this place up. So he hears but doesn’t see Jean climb up the wooden steps to the bunk, the planks of wood he installed in the thinner part of the shed, so it’s almost like a lower roof when you come in, to save floor space. He hears but doesn’t see the soft rustle of sheets and Armin’s clothes against them, the quiet, needy little noise Armin makes when he reaches for Jean - or when Jean reaches for him. He hears but doesn’t see the wet sound of them kissing, and has to sit down because it  _does_  feel like he’s been waiting for this for a year.

“Eren,” Jean barks to get his attention, his voice all wrecked and heavy sounding, and Eren turns to see him still standing on the steps up to the bunk, Armin’s hands holding either side of his neck, while they both look at him expectantly. “C'mere, fucker.”

“Can’t fit three of us on that thing,” Eren says, jerking his chin towards the criss-crossed plywood bolted into the ceiling with a mattress thrown on top of it. Armin can barely kneel up on it, really - there isn’t much room.

“Of course you can, why the fuck do you think I built it?” Jean says.

Eren only laughs, because it makes perfect sense now. Because Armin left with his rich grandparents to a rich part of town and a nice house, and Jean wouldn’t speak to him until he’d built them all somewhere they could be alone, together.

“Eren,” Armin pleads now, letting one hand loose from Jean’s neck to reach out in his direction, squeezing the air and making grabby hands.

Eren relents, dropping the styrofoam cup full of uninteresting tools, and cursing under his breath when it topples over and he has to catch them all from rolling away. Jean laughs and calls him cute, like his nerves are more virginal than just pent up longing. Eren noticed when they walked in the bolted lock on the door, and feels a little more calm about it. If Jean’s dad ever walked in on them in here, they’d all be dead, or something like it.

By the time Eren makes his way over, Jean has finished climbing up the ladder to the bunk, and has thrown himself completely ontop of Armin, his chest muffling Armin’s shrieked gleeful laugh. The wood creaks beneath their weight, so Eren hesitates, but there’s charts and a fucking scientific calculator on Jean’s desk, so he must have calculated their combined weight, or something - which is ridiculous, and also makes Eren kind of want to cry, or punch Jean in the throat.

“You assholes are so loud,” Eren grumbles, wedging himself between them and the wall. Jean ignores him in favor of sitting up as much as he can and peeling his shirt from off his back. Armin wiggles beneath him, purposefully lifting his hips until Jean groans, pushing him back down.

“Dad isn’t here,” Jean mumbles, and then he’s kissing Armin again, all sloppy and loud, his hand pressing into Armin’s jaw like he’s squeezing it open so he can lick into it deeper.

“He will be eventually,” Eren adds, more to himself than anything else, peeling off his tshirt in anticipation, or maybe habit.

“You worry too much,” Armin says, his hair an absolute mess from Jean’s hand, turning his head as Jean unzips his shorts and tries to climb out of them with such limited space. Eren would tell him that the bed might hold, but the lack of height up here isn’t optimal for three people, but he thinks it might offend Jean, or at least his effort.

“Get naked,” Jean commands, to both of them. Armin lifts his hips to peel himself out of his jeans, and then rolls onto his side to unbutton Eren’s shorts, like Eren’s hesitation was him waiting for this. Eren’s already so hard it’s making it difficult to think straight, but his mind is a little muddled by what comes next - they’ve done this before, and last time it didn't end well. A shed isn’t big enough for all three of them to love each other at once, not with the looming threat of Jean’s dad lurking just outside. And they need a fucking bathroom that’s indoors.

Jean scoots towards the back of the bunk, sitting up as much as he can and spreading his legs, which means he’s more slumped than seated. Armin crawls between them, immediately dips down and sucks Jean’s dick into his mouth, while Jean curses and thunks his head loudly against the wall.

They should talk about this. It isn’t like Armin to avoid serious topics of conversation, but that’s what he did, on the way over. And even now, just lapsing back into how they were - it feels like this is a weird, fucked up second goodbye or something.

“Hey,” Eren says, naked and hard, his face pinched in a little frown. He tugs on Armin’s hip to get his attention, and looks at Jean. “What the fuck are we doing?”

Armin pulls off with an obscenely wet little pop, and Jean looks at Eren like he’d just denied him water after dying of thirst, like this is the worst possible thing Eren could do to him at this very moment.

“What does it look like?” Armin says, the shortness in his tone surprising Eren, and only confirming that it isn’t just Jean pretending like nothing’s happened.

Eren sits up as best he can, crosses his legs and hunches his shoulders. He’s picking at a loose thread on Jean’s sheets when he mumbles, “I just don’t want this to be the last time, again.”

“I don’t want it to be either,” Jean says, though he’s looking at Armin.

Eren thinks about suggesting it then. That Jean really does get a job in town, and Eren will look too, and then the three of them can get an apartment together, a real one. Except Jean won’t leave without his mom home, worried he’ll have to care for her while his dad works, and Armin doesn’t have time to work - he’s still in school.

“We’ll be okay,” Armin says softly, and then he’s leaning over Jean’s shin to tug on the back of Eren’s neck, kissing him slow, every warm lick of his tongue like a soothing balm on Eren’s nerves.

Armin ends up wedged between them, once he coaxes Eren onto his side and tugs his boxers down his thighs, and then Jean scoots up behind him. Jean’s palm is reached over Armin, kneading into Eren’s hip, and Eren refuses to get choked up over how much he missed this, so he focuses his efforts on fucking Armin’s mouth with his tongue.

“You guys can stay here tonight,” Jean promises. His words are more quiet moans than anything else, and with the way Armin is arching back into him he must be teasing him, this close to pushing inside. Eren isn’t so sure they can stay, but they don’t have much of a choice. Eren only has a bike, so he can’t run Armin back into town, and it sounds like Jean isn’t about to offer.

“I wanna stay here forever,” Armin says, in that wistful way he gets when he’s being fucked by one and kissed by the other. The words would make Eren choke up usually, but he’s too hard, too delirious with the soft rub of skin from Armin's cock and his hand gripped around them both.

They both come into Eren’s boxers, Jean inside of Armin moments after, biting on his shoulder and sobbing when he jerks them both forward with the force of it. After, they drift off like that, not really moving, the sticky press of their bodies only slightly uncomfortable. The AC unit isn’t great, doesn’t reach up in this little alcove like Jean maybe thought it would, but it doesn’t matter because the instant they leave this cocooned heat they’ve created around themselves, Eren will miss it so much it hurts.

Eren hears Jean’s dad drive up in the volvo, home from work at the usual ungodly hour of morning, and he creaks his eye open to watch the beam of the headlights pass through the thinly curtained windows in here. Once Eren stops following the light, he settles his head back against the pillow and catches Jean watching him with barely open eyes, Armin still snoring softly into his neck.

Jean pets the back of Armin’s hair, looks down at him, and whispers, “I know this isn’t enough.”

“It’s not that it isn’t enough-”

“Just, stop,” Jean interrupts, “It’s only temporary, okay? Once my mom comes back, we’ll figure something out.”

“Or you could just tell your dad about us,” Eren tries.

Jean chuckles like Eren just told him a bad joke - not like Eren was expecting any other reaction.

“Go to sleep, asshole,” Jean mumbles, nuzzling his head into the pillow to get more comfortable, “You’ll wake him.”

At least, Eren thinks, it’s something he’s thought about. It’s only a few hours to pick up Armin and bring him here, and it’s a tight fit, but maybe this is the  _try before you buy_ , maybe if they can get through this they really will be alright. Eren hears the crunch of gravel beneath Jean’s dad's work boots, and it doesn’t even have him worried. Jean bought a lock and installed it, just for them. They’ll be alright.


End file.
